


Bikini Bottoms

by AfflictedwithAlliteration



Series: Hard Candy [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A teeny bit of dub-con, Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Bit of shamming, Dirty Talk, F/M, Little bit non-con but the reader is cool with it, Misunderstandings, Paps has no chill, Paps is unamused, Polyamory, Reader has body issues, Reader is a tad desprate, Reader is fail, Reader-Insert, Sans is done with your shit, Sans is even less amused, Sexy Times, You're all bad at communicating, attempt at plot, basically just porn, little bit fluff, slightly rough sex, talking helps, tiny bit angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfflictedwithAlliteration/pseuds/AfflictedwithAlliteration
Summary: Papyrus needs a little payback after making you uncomfortable for months now.





	Bikini Bottoms

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my comp for like a year now. I have no desire to do anything with so here you go! Abrupt ending is abrupt XD

_Every time._

Every time you’ve asked him, pleaded with him, straight up confessed in the hopes of making him so uncomfortable he’d put on a shirt. But God forbid Papyrus be anything but his asshole self. 

“M’good, sugar.”

And you’re so very done with this shit. So a human can’t be attracted to a skeleton, he says. Monsters aren’t attracted to humans, he says, so it’s not the same. It’s not like its skin. It’s not like he’s in public, which he does that too just to fuck with the neighbors. Blah, blah, bullshit. At this point you swear he’s doing it to make you move out, which, fuck him very much. But if he wants to play this game two can play it!

Well, maybe.

You just need the courage to swing open your door and prance down stairs in your bikini bottoms. _Just_ your bikini bottoms. But every time you catch your reflection you freeze. He isn’t going to be attracted to you even if he did like humans. You sigh and press your fingers against your stomach, trailing flatly up your chest then back down to your thighs with a cringe. A piece of paper had more sex appeal than you did.

Then you hear his laughter float up the stairs followed by the heavy stomp of Sans boots then a knock, “HUMAN! THE PANCAKES ARE DONE, COME DOWNSTAIRS IMMEDIATELY OR YOU WILL GET NO FOOD UNTIL DINNER!”

Its now or never. Besides, this isn’t about whether or not he finds you attractive, this is about making him squirm. Though that doesn’t stop you from grabbing a robe to wrap up with as you make your way down the stairs behind Sans.

* * *

The smaller skeleton snaps about showering at a decent hour and not using up all the water with your ‘ridiculous human hygiene rituals’ while the taller just stares at you blankly from across the table. 

His eyes say he knows you’re up to something but you can’t give it away just yet. Plus you don’t want to end up dropping syrup on you or something and actually needing to shower. At least that’s what you’re telling your cowardly self. You roll your eyes. It was a stupid plan to begin with. The best thing was just to go upstairs and get dressed.

And you were going to.

If that dick hadn’t taken off his jacket. 

And. Wasn’t. Wearing. A. Shirt.

Fuck you very much, Pap.  
Adrenaline gave you the courage you needed to casually begin untying your own robe, “It’s fine, Sans, it is pretty hot in here.”

The words are startling casual as you glare at Papyrus and let it fall. Two can play this game. 

But, of course, of course the asshole is completely unfazed. In fact, his eyes barely glance at you even when Sans does a triple take before shaking his head.

“HUMAN.” The word is sharp, a tone he rarely uses anymore and you feel a bit guilty for dragging him into this fight. “PUT IT BACK ON.”

“Mm, no.” You surprised your voice doesn’t shake, your own cheeks flushing at how annoyed and awkward Sans sounded. A vindictive smile makes it’s way to your face as Papyrus grows annoyed as well, mostly because you aren’t listening to Sans. Good. But the shorter one frowns and actually looks up again from his papers to his watch. Clearly he doesn’t have time for this. And that’s also good because this is to get back at the taller one anyway. 

“YES.”

“He doesn’t wear clothes!” You whine petulantly while Papyrus fumes from the other end of the table.

“Mi’lord doesn’t need to see that.”

Okay, ouch. That hurt. You wince but you can’t back down now. 

“Well, I don’t think it bothers him, does it, Sans? Besides, you first, asshole.”

You ignore the way his snarl both frightens you and the way it makes your cheeks flush because this is really not the time. The shorter skeleton doesn’t even give you a glance anymore, too busy with his papers as he responds sharply, “I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOUR PETTY SQUABBLES NOR DO I CARE WHAT THE HUMAN CHOOSES TO WEAR…OR NOT WEAR.”

“See? Totally fine.”

“…whatever you say, mi’lord.” But his gaze promises death. 

Okay. Yeah, maybe this plan should’ve started when Sans left. 

Sans stands and so do you, dutifully putting the plates in the sink to get in his good graces. But he barely spares you a warning glance as you follow, his tone sharp. 

“GET DRESSED BEFORE I GET HOME.”

“Yup.” You squeak out, guilt pinching at you. Sans really didn’t need to always play mediator and now you just felt guilty and Papyrus didn’t even care. Fucker. You had wanted him to at least be mad on his own not for Sans sake. 

Irritation makes you refuse to put the robe on even as you walk with Sans to the door, beelining for the living room once he opens it and sprawling on the rocking chair stubbornly. Taking a page from the taller skeletons books you purposefully dangling your legs on the arm rest so you’re splayed open. The position is awkward, the air making you tingle and its sheer determination that makes you leave them open to slouch into the chair like it isn’t the most uncomfortable thing you’ve done recently. But it’s worth it when Papyrus walks in and actually growls at you, “Awww, is the puppy mad I stole his chair? Resource guarding is bad, you know?”

The growl gets louder, you can practically feel it vibrate through your bones as he glares at you while Sans just shakes his head in annoyance and heads out the door, snatching his brief case off the coffee table. 

“DO NOT MAKE A MESS, MUTT. AND HUMAN YOU ARE STILL TO PUT THE DINNER IN THE OVEN BY FIVE.” Sans snarls as he walks out, giving you a look that says you’re in for it when he gets home as well.

Its only then that you realize your buffer is truly gone. The earlier confidence draining a bit, but you refuse to move, settling for glaring back at Papyrus. You expect him to teleport you to your room and lock you in it in for the rest of the day. He’d done that before so you’d crawled out the window then played ding dong ditch until he found you, pure annoyance lacing his features. This look is far passed annoyance reaching the realm of unbridled rage.

The very second the door clicks shut he is between your legs, pressed tightly up against you. 

That…is not what you’d expected. What you wanted, sure. But this skeleton never gave you what you wanted. Heat blooms quickly, the posture, his gaze—angry or not—had already riled you so the muscles in your thighs twitch eagerly. His chest rises and falls harshly though you know it doesn’t have too, a prickle of fear that only heightens the awareness of him creeping up your spine. It makes your hands twitch, hardly daring to breathe as his voice hides out behind sharp teeth. 

“Didja think you were being cute?”

“I—“ The words are cut off by a choked moan as he leans down, teeth sinking into your neck brutally, unexpected in the suddenness of the motion but all you can do is arch against him. Whether you wanted to avoid the sensation or move toward it, it was hard to tell. It didn’t break skin though, his tongue laving at it roughly until your eyes roll back. He grinds against you with a snarl, prompting you to answer in a panicked, lust filled gasp, “it’s your fault!”

That makes him pause, glaring down at you though his hands don’t stop their exploration of your body, grazing down from your shoulders to skim your breasts, rake into your ribs then stop at the band of your bottoms with a sharp bone. 

When you still don’t speak, waiting breathlessly for something, anything he grits out, in a voice sharper than the bones digging into your hips, “Spit it out.”

Feeling like you can finally breath again now that he’s still, you glare, “You’re always walking around without clothes! And you know I—to you—it wasn’t fair and you’re doing it on purpose! I wanted you to feel uncomfortable too.” There’s a pout in your words now because the idea seems even stupider out loud. The position you’re in saying you’d accomplished nothing but pissing him off into—wait…what exactly was he doing? You glance up now with something like curiosity, all the more aware of every place you touch. You’ll take a pity fuck at this point just to get it out of your system. 

But your words only make him grin but it’s not happy, its smug, feral, his eyes growing dim as his eye lights pinprick in understanding, “So you flaunted yourself to mi’lord and me like a common whore?”

“Did not!”

“Did. You even got wet, prancing around, bet you imagined us both pinning you down and fucking you.”

The sudden vulgarity of his words makes you gape even as something hotter than before twists in your gut. It makes his grin widen until you want to shove him away to sulk in your embarrassment. You know the joke comes after, more admittance is more ammo but as if anticipating it his gripe tightens painfully, tears springing unintentionally as his next words hiss out dangerously. 

“You think your good enough for both of us?”

“I—“ But the words won’t come, something cool dousing the fires as you look away, unwilling to give that last little piece of honesty. Sure, you’d even thought of Sans but Sans had even less interest in you than Papyrus. So caught up in your own thoughts you miss the look of slight guilt cross his face, as well as his fingers trailing until a sharp, hard finger slides in you with ease. 

It rips a warbling moan out of you, eyes snapping back to his stupid smug face. You want to speak but every time your lips part he adds another finger, thrusting in sharp, deep, sudden motions to keep you off balance. As he watches you tremble in the seat his grin grows so wide it could split his skull as he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Bet you can’t even handle me though.”

“Fuck you! I ca—"

He cuts you off, “Then don’t tell me to stop.”

The retort is interrupted with him thrusting in, the stretch so sudden you can’t help the screaming groan that rips from you, echoed by his own growl. The pace he sets is brutal, leaving you to grasp at him desperately for some sort of leverage to push back on him. You don’t have any idea what’s happening anymore but you’ll take what you can get at this point. His magic dulls any pain, and you know despite the fact that he didn’t really ask he’ll stop but you know you don’t want him to because you don’t know when he’ll even give you the time of day. Because he’s an asshole. And you’re desperate. 

“You don’t even deserve to cum.”

“ _P-please_ ,” you grind out, struggling not to whimper, “I won’t do it—ah—again! Pa—fuck, fuck, fuck—Papyrus! I promise!”

“Filthy lyin’ human.” The words only make you clench, the cool feeling of the ring at the tip of his cock pressing against you just right. It’s almost enough but he stops moving, glaring down at you, “You do it again and I’ll make sure you never get to cum again.”

“Yes, yes, yes—okay—just, ah, just—“

The words are cut off by his teeth and tongue as he thrusts forward, chasing his own end, hands raking up your thighs to your clit. It’s easy, almost too easy to let go. But even when you do he keeps going, the sensation after your own orgasm almost better than the orgasm itself. You blame that for how loud you are but Papyrus doesn’t seem to mind, encouraging you with soft snarls that demand you don’t stop.

* * *

“…Mi’lord already told me to wear clothes.” Papyrus says into the silence after, you gape at him but he just grins, “I liked you looking.”

“Fucking asshole.” You mutter but you can’t help the edges of a grin, “You couldn’t have just said something?”

“Couldn’t you?”

“I did but…you said you hated humans.”

“Never said I hated you.”

“That…that doesn’t even make sense!” You groan but Papyrus lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Mi’lord wanted to see if you wanted us both. Or not at all.”

“You—”

“We don’t share.” You hear the ‘except with each other’ in the silence. Oh. It makes sense. With Sans you didn’t even try to flirt, you knew he cared about you but you hadn’t thought—so that’s why Papryus hadn’t—

“You could’ve just said.” You mumble out, both embarrassed and annoyed, exhausted with both you, them and situation. Papyrus just looks a little guilty as he pulls you into his lap. It’s not an apology and he still owes you one, and so will Sans and you will owe them but—

Worth it, you can’t help but think.

“Lemme make it up to you, sugar.”

* * *

You probably should’ve done more than just shower and make your way to the couch, strangely comfortable now with your state of undress. Even more comfortable as you bite into the couch to stifle the half whine threatening to spill out as Paps comes again and leaves you hanging and over-sensitive. The drag as he pulls out has you choking on nothing and flips you over, “You can’t just—”

"REALLY?

Neither of you heard the car and now you both stare in slight surprise at the sight of Sans but you notice Papryus looks unapologetic, that fucker! He’d known! You gaze moves to the clock and you want to cry. You’d forgotten the food. Eyes wide you also realize the position you’re in. A wave of heat rushing through as Sans gaze runs over you but also embarrassment. 

“Oh my fucking—get off!” You hiss at Papyrus, trying to cover up but he pins you down while Sans drops his briefcase on the table with a bang and sits in the chair across from you both, a frown on his face but he looks almost amused and less surprised than you think he should be. 

You’re about to apologize when his voice snaps out sternly over yours, “CLEAN HER UP BEFORE SHE MAKES A MESS ON THE COUCH.”

You don’t understand what he means until you feel the tongue, you want to pull away but Sans gaze holds yours as his brother eats you out like a starved man. Instead of protests all that fall from your open mouth is moans. 

You struggle to figure out how this is happening but sharp shocks of pleasure make your eyes roll back, finally breaking the shorter skeletons gaze as you cry out, Papyrus being the only thing keeping you from melting down to the floor. 

With bright eyes Sans gets up and casually walks to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “MUTT, BATHE THE HUMAN WHILE I MAKE DINNER.”

“Sans—”

“AFTER WHICH WE WILL SHOW AND EXPLAIN TO THE HUMAN WHY IT IS IMPORTANT TO KEEP A SCHEDULE.”

Your face flushes as Papyrus only smirks and takes you both to the bathroom.


End file.
